


Triangulate

by Astronoddingoff



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Sex Pollen, Smut, it's a hell of a night for these nerds, tags will update
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-28 06:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronoddingoff/pseuds/Astronoddingoff
Summary: Her mournful seething is interrupted when some local approaches, asks her a question she barely registers about her ship and how it runs.  Any other day she would have been fucking delighted to word vomit all about their ship and her lovely crew, but today-Today she couldn’t care less to be honest, because the air is warm and smells pleasantly of spice, the sunset’s poking through dark oncoming clouds and coating everything in a golden halo, and yet she still couldn’t feel more cold.Aka: Three grown adults can't figure out how to words, miscommunications are easy, and sex pollen only makes it worse (or better).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Casually shows up after nearly half a year without posting* Hello heathens, feast on the poorly written two parter I promised months ago.

_ ‘The planet is pleasant so far, at least’ _

It’s the first planet they’ve encountered with warp-capable inhabitants in a while. The people of the land had been all but overjoyed at their arrival, all too willing to join the federation and learn more about the world beyond their atmosphere. It was mere days of preliminary trade agreements and law explanations with the local High Priestess and her council before talks of a celebratory party were put into motion. The locals  _ insisted _ on celebrating with their newfound allies and friends over food and drinks in the Palaces extensive gardens.

_ ‘And hell, god knows we needed the break’ _

Her gaze grazes over the fields: the band in full swing, the handfuls of subordinates running around playing with the new ambassadors children or chatting with officials and trying all the new and unknown foods, the freshly minted Ensigns smelling every flower with starry eyed wonder.

And then to Chris, standing in a semi-circle of Priests and the leaders High Court. Alone. Without them. Without  _ her. _

The pang of remorse hits her in her chest. She looks down into her drink as she swirls it. Tries not to get sucked down into it, into the memories of that night. Why Chris is standing there alone and it’s all her fault. 

“Nice day for a party”

She looks next to her. Phil has moved next to her. He’s still a good foot and a half away. Weeks ago, they would have been practically on top of each other. They would have shoved shoulders and elbows until they were practically wrestling. And she would call him a jerk and he would shoot back something about her being ‘mad because you’re she shortest out of all of us’, and Chris would playfully turn and say something about how he was gonna take them  _ both _ down if they didn’t stop fighting-

“Yeah,” she manages in a false calm. “It is”

Bitterness wells in her throat. Those days seem to be over now. 

“What do you think Chris is saying right now?” Phil remarks plainly, nodding to the semi-circle. “Doesn’t look like he’s having much fun”

“No,” she looks back at one of the men she used to call ‘her boy’, back turned to herself and the other man that was once hers. “He doesn’t”

She’s not having very much fun either. Hasn’t since their ‘Golden Trio’ started falling apart. God she just wants to go back; wants to go back weeks ago when this all went to hell and stop it from ever happening. Wants to go to Starfleet Commands Headquarters and fight every single one of those  _ fucking assholes ruining everything she lov- _

Her mournful seething is interrupted when some local approaches, asks her a question she barely registers about her ship and how it runs. Any other day she would have been fucking delighted to word vomit all about their ship and her lovely crew, but today-

Today she couldn’t care less to be honest, because the air is warm and smells pleasantly of spice, the sunset’s poking through dark oncoming clouds and coating everything in a golden halo, and yet she  _ still  _ couldn’t feel more cold.

——

Phil watches from the corner of his eye as Una passively chats up some overexcited local. 

He knows her too well to be fooled by her First Officer Face; She doesn’t care, he knows she doesn’t. 

Just like he knows he’d rather be across the field, the both of them hanging off Chris’s elbows and poking fun at each other or their Ensigns. He can just picture it. They’d laugh at the sight of their coworkers running around making flower crowns and marveling at the place like little kids. Chris would shake his head and say something wistful about ‘the good ol’ days’, and Una would clap back some witty remark like ‘Chris, you’ve never been that young. Just look at all those greys’ and Phil would oh so heroically leap to his Captain’s aid and chide Una for ‘being jealous of our snow white hair since yours is too dark to dye’. The mental image brings a smile to his face. This whole party would be  _ infinitely  _ more bearable if they were all together.

_ ‘But we aren’t, and we can’t be.’ _

The smile slides off his face as quickly as it came.

Phil shifts his gaze out into the fields of multicolored flowers where the warm spice in the air floats from.

It’s like the three of them are back to square one of friendship instead of the tried and true dynamic trio they’ve been since they took over old Ennie. The whole Discovery fiasco was bad enough, hard enough to handle. And then during shore leave after the fact-

A pang of hurt echoes in his chest like a loud, ominous bell sounding off.

He thinks of the night often. Plays it over and over when he’s trying to sleep, looking for the exact moment when the three of them fell apart. The exact moment he should have done something different, said something different, the moment where he should have pulled his partners closer- or maybe, where he should have let them shift away.

_ ‘Staying up drinking with Chris like it was any other night, laughing and talking about how long Ennie would be under for repairs again. Chris being a goofball as usual, hands flailed upward as he’s three beers and ten minutes deep into telling some crazy story, when his personal padd vibrates next to them. Chris scooping it up, skimming as he drinks, thinking it was just another repair update or a “sorry for your loss” message. But it wasn’t. Because Chris’s hands start shaking. And then his whole body starts shaking. And then he’s tapping at his padd, reading whatever it is at lightning speed over and over, trembling and all of a sudden rocking forward slightly over the padd and starting to *cry*. Phil standing in an instant, wrapping Chris up as he shakes and mumbles inaudibly before he tears out of his arms and grabs at Phil’s hands. Desperately asking him to come with him, follow him, stay with him, please. Him assuring Chris he will because god, he’d follow that man anywhere-’ _

It’s a blur, a painful, bitter blur. And yet, as clear as if it had happened only a moment ago.

_ ‘Sprinting down the hall to Una’s door. Overriding it with an emergency code that he probably shouldn’t have used but did anyway. Both of them crawling onto her bed and shaking her awake in a blind panic. He’ll never forget Una’s face. Never forget how it went from bubbling annoyance to concentrated fear when she saw Chris’s tear stained face. Never forget how she cradled it in her hands as she shook sleep from her head. She pulled both of them in bed with her without a second thought. And how they both moved in tandem to lay on top of Chris, held him strong and steady as he cried helplessly into their arms. God, holding him, trying to soothe him? Trying to figure out what was wrong for what felt like ages as sobs wracked through them all?’ _

Phil has to physically shake himself out of the memory and take a hardy sip of his drink. He can’t go tearing up while they’re grounded like this, especially in front of new diplomats. He’s a professional first. They all are.  _ ‘But we’re people too’,  _ whispers the part of him most wounded. The part that Phil has spent many days trying to quiet, and many nights succumbing too.  _ ‘Doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t that come first?’ _

Phil drinks. Breathes. Remembers.

_ ‘When Chris had calmed enough to draw somewhat steady breath, it took him at least three times to explain, the poor man. _

_ “The- the Asylum Seekers Starbase, they-” a stuttered breath “-they received a message from someone seeking medical assistance, asylum, education -uh- the, the academy too maybe.” Chris had choked out. “They’re- it’s from Talos IV.” His voice had cracked then, failed him as he gasped, as Una and Phil pulled him closer. Overwhelmed and exhausted, he fell into them. Curled up in between them and just let himself cry. _

_ Phil had never seen him look so small. _

_ Starfleet Command had apparently decided to approve her request, but that wasn’t what seemed to destroy their boy. No, that wasn’t what made Phil’s blood boil and make him want to storm the Admirals castle and rain hell on those bastards. No, that was when he read the notification himself, later on. They had sent the envoy to get her ~three weeks prior~. They had only thought to notify Chris now, when he wouldn’t have a say either way. The fucking brass kept it a secret for *weeks*. They only thought to tell their pride and joy, their Golden Captain, their shining example of Starfleet and all its moral principles that they just ~loved~ to pull out and flash around for new recruits, now. _

_ No chance to weigh in. No chance to get closure. No chance to even tell the fucking brass anything about who she is or what they went through or, you know, the fact that it effected him at all. That was how they repaid him for years of being one of their most highly decorated and loyal officers. A two paragraph debrief weeks after the decision was made, just after the most stressful and emotionally taxing months of his *whole fucking career.*’ _

In the present, Phil watches as one of the Priestess’s handmaid's places his hand on Chris’s arm, watches as Chris barely contains a flinch and disengages gently where Phil  _ knows _ he wants to rip his arm away.

He watches as the Priest Una had been talking to walks away, leaving her to stare off across the grass at their boy.  _ ‘Or,’ _ the hurt, envious part of him pipes up again,  _ ‘if the radio silence he’d been getting from the both of them for the past few weeks now was to be believed, *her* boy.’ _

Chris. Una.  _ Vina _

Everything was, to put it simply,  _ fucked. _

—-

For weeks, it’s been just, well, hell, really. She and Phil have barely talked, and Chris? Chris hasn’t been himself, all skittish and quiet. Even now-

Una looks across the grass and spots him, semi-circle among the planets priests. He’s smiling, sure. But she knows him better, as much as that knowledge wrenches in her chest constricting vice. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes like it should. Every time one of the Priests goes to platonically touch his arm, or even gets close to him at all she can see the physical  _ wince _ away. Sees the strategic maneuvering he pulls to maintain that personal bubble where he normally leans into touches. So cold where he once was so warm.

_ ‘And we’re no better’  _ she thinks dryly. Her eyes shift to Phil beside her. They’ve barely spoken since that night. Weeks ago, they talked daily, laughed over dinner together in the caf, trade innuendos and hinted at their separate sexcapades with Chris just to watch him blush and grin. All cheeky smiles and barely-stifled laughter. It was so built into her days that the absence of it makes her ache. They all still see each other, sure. They work on the same ship -hell, they run the damn thing. They’re Gonna see each other- but it’s not the same. Not by a long shot. Going to the gym in place of walking to dinner with Chris still feels so wrong. Meals eaten alone in her quarters without Phil there to chide her for not eating enough green things make the food turn to ash in her mouth. She knows its dramatic, but god, she  _ misses them. _ She never even realized how much her day was built around them but now? 

Now their once untearable trio is fraying at the seams, and she doesn’t know how to stitch them all back together. And that’s one of the worst parts of all of this; not knowing. The other worst part are the thoughts endlessly rolling in her head. Those little insecurities she had thought she buried long ago mingling with protective and jealous streaks into the most bitter cocktail she’s ever had to swallow.

_ ‘Chris hasn’t invited me to spend time with him since that night; what the fuck did I do? Is he with Phil when I’m not there, and they just haven’t told me? Does Chris like him better now? Does he not trust me to be mature if he says he doesn’t want to sleep together anymore? God, I tried to tell him that Vina’s asylum plea didn’t mean anything, didn’t have to change anything but god, he just cried harder when I said it. Is that the thing he’s angry at me for? Is that why he won't even *look* at me longer than he has to? Was it really so bad that he won’t even let me apologize? Is it so bad that we can’t even be *friends* anymore? I fucking miss-’ _

She snaps out of brooding at the sound of the sharp laugh of one of their officers from across the field. Pretends that her hair is getting in her face and shakes her head as if to clear it. She won’t fall down that rabbit hole. Not here. Not in front of Phil and Chris and their new allies and about 10 of their subordinates. Not while she’s on the clock; she can fall prey to a pity party later.

Still, her gaze keeps shifting to Chris across the field, pointedly turned away from her and Phil. Their golden boy was dimming. 

She’s pulled back out of her thoughts by a tap to the shoulder. She half turns. The High Priestess smiles at her and nods in greeting before turning and also greeting Phil. They greet her back and exchange mild pleasantries, but her mind is still not in it. Her eyes keep scanning the fields around them, counting heads of their landing party -a habit of years of command- as she listens in on the conversation she’s supposedly in. Phil makes some comment on the smell in the air, how nice it is, which isn’t wrong- the floaty, mild spice is quite pleasant. Maybe they should ask to take a few samples to study and grow in their ships garden. _ ‘The botany nerds are always halfway to coming in their uniforms whenever away teams bring back something new and inexplicable’. _ She just manages to tamp down a laugh. The High Priestess accepts Phil’s compliment, launches into an explanation of what the scent is, where it comes from. Something about how certain flowers pollen smells different when the plant comes in contact with different substances on the surface due to chemical makeup? Nothing that’s really her expertise or fascination.

She’s really only half listening, if she’s honest with herself. Her attention span is good but not when she’s got about seven tasks on her shoulders, not including her own damn brooding. Keeping track of their party, their Captain, making a mental list of all the reports she needs to fill out back on the ship, not to mention the ominous clouds that have been rolling in as the evening has gone on are only getting darker and they might have to stay the night if they’re electrically charged if due to possible transporter malfu-

“-release more Xitranua as a result, and-”

She zaps back into the conversation so fast she nearly gets whiplash. Something in her gut goes cold. Her heart leaps in something that’s not quite fear, but close. She knows that chemical name. The flashbulb memory of the last time she heard of it hits her like a sucker punch.  _ ‘It’s not-’  _

She looks to Phil to confirm. He looks back at her, eyes widened a fraction.  _ ‘Oh shit’. _ He turns back to the Priestess.

“Apologies Your Excellency, but you didn’t say ‘Xitranua’, did you? The chemical compound-” Phil rattles off the rough chemical makeup of it, which is honestly impressive off the top of one's head. He asks it with a rising desperation that he can’t quite hide. A feeling she knows all too well.  _ ‘It could be wrong’ _ she thinks. _ ‘The universal translators have only just been given out to these people; they’ve been wrong with new languages before.’ _ She begs herself to believe it.  _ ‘They could just have an untranslatable word that sounds like it’  _ she pleads with the universe.

“Yes? That’s it.” The Priestess replies, a bit confused. Una’s heart plummets into her gut as her panic rises.

“Flowers release among other chemicals through pollen into air always even now -but only small quantity, so warmer smell. Flowers are water activated, become more potent in rain, turns smell sweet.” The Priestess tilts her head, eyes widening. “Is an issue? Your list before you came of chemicals your kind cannot contact with didn’t have this.” Her three eyes widen as her voice turns alarmed. “Poison to your kind?” 

Una glances to Phil, who returns her look with the same worry.

Xitranua. One of a mere three chemical compounds known to the Federation that when inhaled in large quantities increases libido, among other chemicals released in the brain in humans. Sex pollen. Fucking  _ sex pollen. _ Of the three known, it’s the least dangerous; not powerful enough to be deemed a chemical weapon or able to remove one's ability to consent -unless in very high doses- but enough that they need to let Chris know. Now.  _ ‘Especially,’ _ Una thinks as she looks back to the storm coming in.  _ ‘If we don’t leave Exactly Now’. _ She looks back to Phil who has followed her gaze to the frankly insidious looking clouds. She takes the initiative to excuse them from the Priestess’s company before blindly reaching for Phil’s hand as she turns purely out of muscle memory. He takes it.

As they rush across the grassy field, Chris still has his back turned to them, chatting up one of the locals with a drink in hand.

“Chris” She calls when they’re within a range where she doesn’t have to scream to be heard, and realizes a bit too late that she let more worry in her tone than she should have.

_ ‘It’s probably not even noticeable’ _ she reasons with herself. Chris whips around at the sound nonetheless, looks to her with alarm.

_ ‘Well, there goes that hope.’ _

Chris excuses himself from the semi-circle and meets them halfway. Any trace of tension between them ceases to exist as she and Boyce pull up to either side of him and they form a triangle of brushing elbows and tucked heads. They have a job to do, and besides that their people are in what is potentially a dangerous situation; anything else can and will wait.

Phil dives into the whole thing about the flowers, Una jumping in here and there. Chris’s face very quickly goes from mild concern to that stern ‘Composed Captain’ look he gets when he’s especially worried. When Phil finally pauses to breathe she points up to the clouds rapidly rolling in and just barely manages to hold back her rising panic at how they may very well be grounded for the night if they don’t  _ move.  _

“How long do you think we have to collect our things and beam back to the ship?” Chris asks.

As if on cue, there’s a soft but still audible rumble. She looks up, as do many of those out in the field. She realizes with one heart sinking moment that their fate has been decided for them already. The clouds -that she should have commented on earlier, should have pointed out, should have done  _ something _ about dammit- are rolling in heavily now, and judging by that thunder, it’s charged. Unless they feel like risking beam up during a storm and being re-assembled in an electrified cloud instead of the transporter room, they’re grounded for the night. She may be psi-null but she swears she  _ feels _ the dread between the three of them rise as the realization sets in.

“Our first priority is getting our away team to shelter, debriefing them, and contacting the ship.” Chris says definitively. He turns and opens his mouth to call for their away team to come to them when the first drop of water hit Chris’s shoulder. A small, slowly darkening spot on his bright golden jacket. 

There’s a long moment where they say nothing, don’t move, barely breathe. Merely watch as it soaks into his uniform. Slowly, their eyes all look back up at one another.

You can’t work with two people  _ And _ see them naked  _ And _ spend literal years living within the same two miles of one another without getting pretty damn close. It only takes a few moments of their eyes flickering at each other’s faces as a game plan is silently debated, decided, and they’re  _ moving. _

Chris and Boyce break off first, hurriedly collecting their landing party to debrief and point them in the direction of the palace a ways away past the gardens. Una breaks past them -brushing Phil and putting a hand on his back to steady them both as she does- in the opposite direction towards where the High Priestess and her High Court are standing. By the time she gets there the Priestess is making stressed hand motions as she hurriedly speaks with her court; she must have put at least something together about the situation. She spends a long ten minutes trying to explain the basics of what’s happening, trying to reassure them that their crew aren’t going to die but they need to go inside  _ now, _ need to take shelter, need to take certain precautions. She’s talking as quick as she can manage while also remaining diplomatic and calm and collected-

-and  _ not _ panic like she really,  _ really _ wants to at the fact that she’s about to get dosed with sex pollen  _ -again!- _ and she doesn’t even know how much it’s going to affect her or who her designated fuck buddy is in this scenario is and the fact that her only two options rank wise are both at odds with her and possibly at each other and  _ Goddammit _ isn’t this just  _ fucking  _ typical-

Just as she’s finishing up her third round of “No no, we understand. you didn’t know. Yes it’s just an unfortunate oversight. No we aren’t being poisoned  _ -though she honestly wonders if that would be more merciful- _ yes yes we’ll be fine”, Chris and Phil practically crash into her sides. Chris tugs her to face him with a hand on her arm and oh shit, he’s got his ‘Don’t panic at what I’m about to say even when we Both Know we Both want to’ face on.

“We rounded up and debriefed the away team, told them what to expect. They’re in the palace hall waiting for us. Una, the windows in the building aren’t sealed. They’re just-“

“-They’re damn screens. Like, paper thin, braided screens. We’re gonna be breathing that shit all night.” Phil finishes, not looking worried so much as annoyed as  _ all hell, _ and Una would laugh at the expression if she felt any humor left in her at all.

“A possible saving grace though,” Chris cuts back in, squeezing her arm gently as she pivots back to him.

“Lieutenant Frasha had been scanning flowers during the party. She used the data to calculate a loose estimate on the amount of the pollen we’ll be exposed to. Unless there’s a literal monsoon, or we decide to camp out in the middle of the field for the night, or somebody feels like a spontaneous midnight sprint through the garden, we won’t take in too much.” Chris’s lips quirk in a half smile, “Everyone just might feel a little frisky, which in my opinion is preferable to a ‘fuck or die’ scenario” he adds dryly.

She chuffs despite the circumstances. “Yeah,” she quips, raising an eyebrow and shaking her head. “You’re not wrong there. Leave it to you to find the silver lining in a literal fuck fest” And god, to have him smile at her, holding onto her -even if it’s in the Stupidest Scenario Possible and they’re still technically at odds- makes her chest unclench and her heart warm. And Phil glances towards her with a small smile of his own that she can’t help but return. God, she’s missed them.

Of course, the moment’s crushed when the High Priestess and her council apologize to them for the Fourth Time Now, which, though appreciated, is still annoying. She’s trying to talk to her boys, dammit. She doesn’t need a gaggle of politicians butting in on the first time the three of them have smiled at each other in weeks.

She watches Chris put on his Captain Face again and turns to face the council. Phil takes her aside, pulls her slightly closer to give Chris more space to stand in front of their hosts. It’s as Chris is reassuring the priests  _ again _ that “It’s fine, we’re fine, it’s all gonna be ok” for the Fourth time, that a thunderous growl echoes from the sky above them and cuts him off. The sound of rain suddenly fills her ears. She should feel worry, should feel embarrassed. Instead she just sighs as the heavens open up on the three of them. The fact that they had this much time since the first drop was a miracle in of itself: them getting soaked right now is only a disappointing inevitable. Still, it would have been nice to at least be dry when she started getting dosed.

The change in the air is almost immediate. The once subtle spice starts shifting into a potent sweetness that is fortunately- or unfortunately- a very nice smell; Something she wants to keep taking deep breaths of. She can practically taste it; some strange mix of nostalgic candies from her childhood intertwined with floral buds and some other components she can’t name but are yet somehow familiar. The rain soaking into her jacket is somehow heavier than rain, or maybe her skin just feels more sensitive, but there’s this sense of  _ sticking _ on her skin, like the juice of some unknown fruit is drying and tacky on her skin. Her hair starts to stick to her face from the rain, careful curls flattening and coiling harder at random turns under the onslaught.

Chris grasps at her arm, tries to hurry them to the building in the distance and Una starts to follow, but Phil tugs them to a stop. Pulls them both back and close to him. She feels herself flush a bit at being pulled against him, at how warm he is. Fuck, it’s already taking effect.

“If we run, we scare the hosts and also take more of the pollen in faster. Besides, we’ll be breathing it all night anyways, and we’re soaked already” he says in one, low-pitched breath. The warm air tickles her ear. She looks back to him. His cheeks are already a bit red, breathing a bit uneven. A side glance to Chris tells her he’s in the same boat. They nod. And so begins the slow, uncomfortable walk back to the Priest’s palace.

They’re moving as casually as they can manage while being poured on and knowing they’re being watched by both their party and their hosts. The palace in the distance inches closer and closer. The silence between them all feels tense, awkward.

“What does it smell like to you?” She asks unthinkingly. At least the rain isn’t so hard that she can’t at least attempt conversation and be heard. Her boys -if she can still call them that- both peer over at her, puzzled.

“Which one of us are you asking?” Phil responds.

“Both I guess.” She shrugs stiltedly, not looking at them. They’re talking, and they’re together in one place, so there's at least Some improvement from back on the ship. “I dunno. They smell kinda like these candies I had growing up in Illyria. But they also smell like something else and I don’t know what it is. Feels familiar though.” She shrugs again. She feels stupid. She shouldn’t have to make small talk with two people she’s known for years and seen naked or nearly nude, goddammit.

“They smell like prickly pears to me, but I think I get what you mean. There’s something else to it too.” Chris offers up. His brow furrows. “Maybe it’s what you were saying about your candy? Did they smell kinda like,” he gestures vaguely with one hand. “Like a weird mix of melted popsicles and bananas?” He asks with a half laugh and a quirk of an eyebrow. She huffs a laugh.

“That’s one way to describe them, yeah. But that’s still not it though.” She leans forward a bit as she walks. “Phil? What about you?”

He looks contemplative for a moment. “This is gonna sound  _ real  _ weird” he warns, and that piques both her and Chris’s attention. They gesture for him to continue. 

Phil snorts. “So, one of my neighbors growing up was really into illegal exotic beekeeping -don’t ask, he was a real nutcase. Nice, but a nutcase- and the pollen smells a hell of a lot like the wasp honeycomb he’d bribe us with for our silence about the whole operation.”

Chris starts giggling even as he tries to hold them back, and she feels herself following his example. 

“Phil didn’t you grow up in New York City?” She asks incredulously.

“Yup”

“Phil!” Chris laughs. “You can’t just tell us that and say ‘don’t ask’! What do you  _ mean _ bribe?! Did he just have like, an apartment  _ full of bees?” _

“Pretty much” Phil responds casually. He’s rapidly losing the fight to keep the smile off his admirable poker face.

“Phil, Phil how the fuck did he hide an apartment full of bees?! How did they get in and out to get pollen?! Why did he bribe you  _ specifically _ with  _ wasp _ honey?!”

“The landlords were idiots -and we refused to rat them out, windows exist, and it was  _ really fucking good _ honey that was best in comb form, and the wasp variety just happened to be my favorite, that’s how. His family still sends me some in the occasional care package, if you wanna try some sometime. Any other questions,  _ Captain?” _

_ “So Many” _ Chris answers back through a wheezing chuckle. “Tell us more about this renegade bee keeping neighbor,  _ please” _

And that Phil does, providing much needed entertainment as they continue on in the slow trek back. He makes them crack up laughing even as they’re soggy and miserable. It almost feels like they’re all back to normal. Almost.

_ ‘Illyrian box candy, prickly pears, and dubiously legal wasp honey’ _ she wonders to herself. Takes a deep breath in through the nose, then out slowly. Contemplates. She’s never had two of those three things, so she can’t know for sure, but it smells about right to her.

—

By the time they make it back inside the large main hall, they’re soaked to the bone, flushed and breathing a bit more labored than any of them would care to admit. Phil makes a mental note to check their conditions before they turn in for the night: The three of them have been  _ way _ more exposed than their coworkers, which is just  _ dandy _ . One of the priests attendants hands him a towel and tells him they’ll send some form of robes to his given room, and he for one cannot fucking  _ wait _ to not be half drowned in his own damn clothes. As he’s peeling off his jacket and watching Una do the same, Chris seems to finish his talk with the High Priestess. He watches Chris do a graceful spin and call for their party’s attention.

“Ok! I understand this is not what any of us anticipated when we beamed down today, but these are the cards we’ve been dealt, and we will handle them like the professional Starfleet Officers we are, understood?” He asks sternly, raising an eyebrow. Their subordinates nod and murmur a quiet “Yes sir”. Chris nods back at them, pulling at the collar of his jacket and oh, oh the way he flicks it up and bares his throat as he tilts his head back should  _ not _ be as sexy as it somehow is.

“Good. Our hosts have been kind enough to assign us all rooms for the night, which you’ll be directed to once this meeting is over. Myself, Number One, and Boyce will be at the three rooms at the beginning of the hall should you need any one of us.” He pulls his jacket off his shoulders with some difficulty, arms getting a bit stuck in the sleeves as his shirt and jacket stick together.

_ ‘God I wanna pull that off him’ _ Crosses Phil’s mind with a flare of interest low in his gut. He busies himself with drying his hair so he doesn’t follow  _ that _ train of thought too far. Tries to focus on Chris’s words and  _ not _ the flex of muscle as the jacket finally pulls free from Chris’s toned arms.

“You’ve all been briefed on what to expect, what to feel. I don’t need to remind you all to make wise decisions...” He pauses, quirks an eyebrow and flashes a small, knowing grin. “But I’ll remind you anyway; Make Wise Decisions. Choose wise actions, make clever moves. Whatever those decisions, actions, and moves may be.” Another grin, and then a fucking  _ wink.  _ And oh, that’s how Phil knows this whole thing is affecting Chris more than he’s probably willing to admit. He almost never acts this way; teasing, flirtatious, even a bit cocky.  _ ‘The only time I see him like this is when we’re-’ _

His sinful train of thought is derailed by the chorus of soft embarrassed laughter leaves their subordinates, and their collective skittish worry seeming to leave with it. That’s one of Chris’s many talents; putting others at ease, breaking tension. It’s one of the things Phil loves most about him. He pauses. His eyes flicker to Una, watching Chris with the same undivided attention as he is.

_ ‘One of the things *we* love most about him’ _

Chris takes a proffered towel from one of the Priests assistants. “Does anyone have any immediate questions or concerns?” He asks, taking the pause to towel at his hair and face. Phil pretends not to watch the beads of moisture trail down Chris’s throat with rapt attention. Pretends not to think about how he wishes he could trace them with his tongue.

“No Sir” quietly chorused by their group.

Chris pulls his head away from the towel to nod definitively.

“Let’s call it a night. You all have your remote padds. Connection with Enterprise is likely choppy at best, but you’ll have comms with each other and us should you need it. Our hosts have informed me they’ll come by with robes in a little bit to sleep in. Let’s roll out, try to get some rest.”

Their group nods with a chorus of “Aye Captain”. Their hosts gesture for the three of them to follow and lead the way, and so they do.

—

_ ‘This place isn’t too bad, despite the whole sex pollen thing’ _

Her room itself is nice; curved terra-cotta like walls, warm earth tone paints. Sparse but elegant furniture. Even the giant cut out windows are aesthetically pleasing, if also a little annoying seeing as how the braided fiber shutter is doing fuck all to keep her from getting even more exposure. She hasn’t changed out of her sopping uniform yet but the robe laying on her bed looks soft as a fucking cloud, and hell, the bed is big and plush. Of all the places to get stranded and dosed, this isn’t the worst by far.

Chris had bid them all goodnight fairly quick once, leaving themselves and the rest of their subordinates to meander their ways into their rooms -many of which still waited for Phil and herself to turn around first, presumably so they didn’t see them pairing off into fuck-buddies. Which, even as the pollens effects start to claw at her more and more, is still fucking hilarious. With him in the room to her right, Phil across the hall, and everyone else more or less tucked in, that leaves only her. Speaking of which, she’s drowning in her uniform.

A sigh leaves her. She meanders to the bed and reaches one hand out towards the robe. 

“God, fuck! Please-”

She pauses. Pivots behind her to the wall between her room and her subordinates, then to the window closest to it. 

_ ‘Apparently, pollen isn't the only thing these windows don’t block out’ _

When the moan is followed up by what sounds like either someone falling off a bed, or maybe tripping out of clothes, and then a concerned “oh fuck, you ok!?”, she can’t tamp down a snort of laughter. Shakes her head at their young and dumb antics before moving to shuck her own clothes off. They come off as easily as she could expect them to, considering they’re skin tight and also sopping. Somehow grabbing at the wet material feels even worse of a sensation than it was earlier. It’s like she can’t  _ think, _ like all of her awareness is just stuck on the feel of the clothes stuck to her skin, or maybe the sensation is somehow stronger? She claws them off faster at that unsettling realization.

She feels clammy, exposed, even as her underthings are still on. Shivers as she towels off her hair and reaches one hand out to grab the robe-

And startles when the sensation of her fingers on the robe shoots through her like electricity.

Her hand whips back and she clutches it, staring. Her own hand around her wrist feels strange, new. A quote floats to her mind unbidden.

_ “It’s like you can’t think, can’t do anything but just... feel. Like, it’s like all day every day, you tune out so much, like how your clothes fit or how your back hurts, and then suddenly you just, just can’t anymore.” _

Images flash in her mind. The debrief they all got following the last time they encountered one of the chemicals. Their away team being quarantined to their rooms for three days even when the side effects wore off after a day. She hadn’t been dosed that time, but Amin had. 

_ “God Un, laying on that fluffy blanket I have at the end of my bed felt like I could’ve come right there. It’s just like, oversensitivity to the max. And I was so warm, and I just felt like I was breathing so hard?” _

She glances back to the robe folded on the bed. Reaches a tentative hand out to touch it.

_ “It’s like I was already like, halfway to coming and then got left hanging, but it was for *hours*” _

Her brain zeroes in on how fucking soft the robe is as soon as she makes contact. Her inhale is sharp. Her fingers keep dragging across the material and as it does she’s flooded with other awareness. The bed she’s sitting on pressing back at her legs. Her damp hair against her neck. Her still wet underwear. The heat between her legs.

Fuck.

She’s not normally a sensory person but god, its too soft, she’s too aware of it. Her traitorous brain conjures a thought: the warm, soft robe on bare, cold skin. 

_ ‘Fuck it’ _

Yanking off a tank top is easy enough, even if the damp fabric under oversensitive fingers makes her shiver. Underwear tugged down and off, flung away with the rest of the pile. Hands on the robe, spinning it around and moving to slide her arms through and  _ god- _

The heavy sigh she lets out is a win, considering the fact that the noises she’s making in her head are just  _ unspeakable. _ Anywhere in contact with with the robe is just howling with the pleasant feedback of how  _ good _ it is. It’s like her skin is already warming, already responding to the touch- to  _ any _ touch, she realizes. Her chest was already at attention from the cold and damp but now, nipples scraping against the plush of the robe? God, its suddenly so fucking much. It’s not enough. She feels  _ high.  _ Rapidly, Una realizes she now knows what Amin meant. Can’t think, can’t help it, only  _ feels. _

Shit, she’s  _ wet.  _

A shaky hand trails down the fold of the robe, parts it with a building anticipation, slips past it and between her legs.  _ ‘Fuck- god’ _ She’s so  _ fucking wet _ already, over nothing. Over a fucking  _ robe. _

The Ensigns in the room to her left seem to take their escapades up a notch. A moan floats through the window screens amidst curses and vague bed-rocking noises. A pang of  _ want need gotta  _ washes over her, and her fingers push in deeper of their own accord. She bites her lip on the sharp inhale. Fingers skip her clit, trace further down, find just how wet and wanting and  _ open _ she is, dip a tiny bit, just to tease. Another gasp pulled from her own mouth, another teasing touch before fingers pull back and up the way they came. She swirls a preliminary, slick circle around her clit and she can just barely choke back the cry. She’s not gonna fucking last.

She can’t even manage to pull her hand away when she stumbles to lay down on the bed. She hits it with her knees, crawls up onto it before her elbow buckles and she nearly faceplants into the pillow. Her other hand speeds the circles around her clit, flicking it just how she likes with her thumb and god, she must look fucking pathetic. Ass in the air, face buried in a pillow, gasping like a virgin discovering the wonders of sex. She splits her two forefingers and frames her clit before thrusting them rough and her brain goes blank save for the feedback loop of ‘ _ fuck fuck so good fuck fuck god fuck’.  _ It’s a pathetically short time before she’s hitting her peak and the way it  _ pulses _ through her with so much heat makes her shake, nearly makes her scream. She knows it’s the pollen doing but it’s just so much fucking better than she thought it would be and she fucks herself through it, wave after wave, mind blank.

She pants for a few long moments. Draws herself up on one hand with the other still touching herself through the aftershocks. Waits for the waves to stop, for the needy ache between her legs to fade so she can pass out and sleep the rest of it off -hopefully before Phil goes over to Chris’s room and she’s forced to listen to them fuck each other’s brains out nextdoor.

But fuck, that  _ isn’t happening. _ The want and hunger she feels only flares at the thought of her boys. She  _ wants. _

A whimper rises low in her throat against her will. The hand still rolling between her legs only presses harder. She’s still fucking  _ aching. _ Jerking off barely took the edge off. In the room to her left, one of her subordinates whimpers and begs their lovers for something she can’t hear. Her body responds with a sympathetic spike of desire.

_ ‘Fuck this sex pollen and the horse it rode in on’ _

She flips onto her back. Pushes the hand on her clit down even harder. Bites her lip as her left hand slips under the robe and rolls a nipple between harsh, unforgiving fingers. This should have been an easy fix: One and done, maybe another if she woke up in the night, maybe in the morning. Her body has other plans, so it seems. The Ensigns are still fucking five feet to her left. To her right, in the other room, she hears the sound of someone tossing and turning on the bed, followed by a low sound. A moan. _ ‘Chris’ _

_ ‘Fuck it’ _

Her left hand moves from her breast down her abdomen, past her right hand. She shimmies out of the last of her clothes with one hand and her knees pull up without her having to think about it. She’s so fucking wet and aching that she doesnt even hesitate before sliding two fingers in rough and fast, and it tears a low cry from her chest.  _ ‘God’ _ . She doesn’t even give a shit if the Ensigns hear her, or if Chris hears her. Fuck that, this is  _ too fucking good _ to give a shit. She can’t even get a good angle like this but just the sheer fact at having something for her body to clench down on is satisfying enough. It lights up something in her, some piece of her that just  _ howls _ at how good it feels, how  _ right _ it is. From behind the wall next to the bed, she hears a muffled curse. The rock of the bed. A whimper. She  _ knows _ that whimper.  _ Intimately well. _ Its a sound he only makes when-

A third finger spears her open. She imagines what Chris is doing. How he feels fingering himself open. She wonders if he’s just getting himself ready for Phil, if he can help himself and manage to stop before Phil undoubtedly goes over and fucks him proper. She should feel upset, envious, but any chance of feeling any of the emotional turmoil is crushed under the overwhelming  _ need _ pulsing in her veins. She imagines him on his knees, fingering himself open wishing so desperately for a toy, for one of them, anything that would fuck him as hard and unforgiving as he likes it. His dick is probably leaking all over the sheets, or his hand. Fuck, is he touching himself? Or is he just fingering himself open and letting the want  _ burn  _ through him?

She flexes the fingers buried in her and doesn’t bother to hold back the too loud  _ ‘ah!’  _ shocked out of her. The stretch of them alone is enough to have her writhing on the bed. She’s making little noises; whispered pleas to no one but herself, curses, indistinct murmurs of  _ ‘yes yes god fuck yes’ _ . Her hand is moving faster, rougher. Hips bucking back into her hands, swiveling in circles and grinding without a care as she whimpers and cries and aches and  _ wants _ and  _ needs. _ From behind the wall inches from her head, she hears a pitched, gasped “ _ please _ ” and it’s  _ over _ for her.

When she comes, it’s even harder than the last, even hotter. She comes with a cry she  _ knows _ she’ll be embarassed about later but she just cant fucking help herself. She clamps down on her one hand like a vice and that same gnawing, animalistic part of her in the back of her mind wants to  _ scream _ with the sensation. The waves engulf her, so much so that she can barely breathe, barely think. For a long few moments there’s only her body and the way it’s moving. She falls back into her sheets, limp and useless. Her thighs ache. Her hands ache. Her breathing is all out of whack. Hair is sticking to her neck and face and she’s suddenly so unbearably hot. She takes a few purposeful breaths to try and calm down. Waits for the thrum of satisfaction, the arousal to die down, or at least for the edge to be taken off.

Many minutes later, and all she feels is restless, too warm, and still positively  _ aching _ with arousal.

Resisting the urge to scream is suddenly a herculean task. She rolls off the bed, sorts out her robe back in place when she wants to rip the damn thing off, and moves across the room to the jug of water on the table. The last thing she needs is to die of dehydration  _ and _ sexual frustration. She's sipping from her glass and trying her damndest to ignore the slick slide in between her thighs as she stands when her personal padd lights up from the bedside table. 

She walks back, downs her drink and trades the glass for the padd, settling back on the bed.

**P.Boyce:** Have heard from a few sources that masturbation doesn’t seem to alleviate symptoms for long.

She huffs. She could have told him that. Her hand moved to start typing back before another message pops in.

**P.Boyce:** We were exposed to more pollen than the rest of the group, so if you haven’t already, I would advise making your way to Chris’s room. Last thing I need is either of you sleep deprived  _ and  _ sexually frustrated.

Her brain screeches to a stop. Rereads.

_ ‘Making her way to?... Isn’t he with Chris right now? _ She’s typing back in a flash.

**NumberOne:** Thanks Phil, figured out the whole ‘right hand won't cut it’ thing already. Also why would I go to Chris right now? Aren’t you with him? Like you’ve been for weeks now?

She sends the message before she can bother wondering if the spike of anger came through towards the end. The ache between her thighs is still very much present, and she’s way too compromised to think straight let alone figure out what game Phil is playing at or deal with her own emotional worries. The bubble that indicates he’s typing back pop up. She waits. And waits. She hears what sounds like a muffled groan from behind the wall next to her. Then the vague sounds of someone either wrestling with sheets, or maybe flipping over on the bed? Her hand slowly starts moving between her legs again. The padd vibrates slightly in her hand, startling her.

**P.Boyce:** Why would I be in there? I thought you and him had been together these last few weeks?

Her whole world screeches to a halt. Even the arousal that had overridden her before seems to get shoved to the backburner. Before she can even form a response beyond  _ ‘what the fuck _ ’ another message comes in.

**P.Boyce:** Una?

**P.Boyce:** Shit.

**P.Boyce:** NO

Her fingers are flying across her screen before she can think of anything more coherent.

**NumberOne:** OUTSIDE HALL NOW

In a second she’s off the bed and hurling her padd. She kicks the bedside table on her sprint to the door and hears the glass spin as pain shoots up her leg but she can barely feel it.

Barely thinks to grab the sash around her waist to keep her robe on before throwing open the door and lunging into the hall. It’s not a second after she’s shutting her door behind her that Phil throws open his own door, and shit, he looks  _ rough. _

His robe in the same barely closed disarray as hers. One shoulder of it has slipped from his narrow frame, sliver of smooth chest peeking out from the gap exposing it. He’s flushed all over, and shit, he looks so genuinely worried that it makes her stomach sink even further.

“What  _ the fuck  _ do you  _ mean _ ‘You’ve been with him for weeks’?” Phil hisses at her, eyes wide. “I thought he was with  _ you!” _

“You really fucking think I was with him?” She argues back just as quietly, mindful that Chris’s door is mere feet away. “He hasn’t even  _ looked _ at me outside of work! We barely talked outside of earlier!”

“When do you mean earlier?!”

“When we were in the  _ FUCKING RAIN, PHIL  _ when the  _ Fuck _ else!” Her voice pitches even higher at the end in place of screaming like she wants to. Her body and her brain are waging war with her impulses, she can’t think straight, and she’s just now finding out that the last three weeks of her life have been a fucking  _ giant lie??? _ She wants to scream. She wants to drink. She wants to launch herself off a cliff, or fuck herself senseless with the nearest person who  _ isn’t _ furious or fucking confused as shit. She rubs at her face and groans.

“Please don’t make that noise” Phil pleads with her. “Our away team fucking themselves senseless next door is bad enough. I can’t be terrified, confused,  _ and _ aroused at the same time and troubleshoot what the fuck is going on.”

_ ‘Fair enough’.  _ She takes a deep inhale. Holds it. Releases, slowly. 

“What I am hearing,” she begins. “Is that Chris is mad at both of us to the point where he won’t even  _ tell us, _ and you mean to tell me that this entire time we’ve both been thinking the other one was with him?”

“Is he even mad?” Phil whispers back to her, heated. “I know Chris, and so do you. Our boy tells us when one of us fucked up, just like we tell him. Also, what is there to be angry over? We aren’t the brass!”

“You don’t get it!” She cuts him off. ‘Our boy’ still echoes through her mind. “I fucked up! I handled everything shittly, and he was crying, and, and-” she trails. Suddenly what Phil was trying to say finally begins to process. “That wouldn’t explain why he wouldn’t talk to you.” she manages, so, so quiet. “Unless?”

Phil shakes his head. “I didn’t handle it the best, I’ll admit that first, honeybee.” the petname strikes her, makes her quirk a tiny smile against the chaotic swirl of emotion in her head. “But I don’t think I said or did anything to warrant radio silence, and, if I’m honest, I don't think you did either.”

“But-”

“I know what you were  _ trying _ to say, Una. But I honestly don’t think he would be mad at anything you said or did that would have caused…” he flaps a hand around. “This. He would have told us if-”

And then a horrible realization very slowly creeps into the forefront of her mind.

“What if we have it wrong?” Una pitches quietly. She looks back up to him and Phil is looking straight into her eyes with a mix of worry and pain so potent and clear on his face that it cuts straight through her lingering arousal and frustration and leaves her feeling almost sick.

“Wh-“

“Phil,” she cuts him off with a hand. He grabs her biceps and pulls her closer. “Phil what If we have it wrong? You say he tells us everything but, god, Phil we’ve been sitting here thinking each other was the person he was with! We’re  _ shit _ at communication!” He seems to consider it, and god he looks like he’s about to  _ cry _ and she’s moving her hands up to hold him steady when,

“Una, what if he thinks  _ we _ don’t want  _ him  _ anymore?”

Her blood freezes in her veins. It’s like a flash bang went off next to them. She can’t feel anything, her ears feel like they’re ringing, it’s like the world screeches to a halt around them. All the noises echoing from their subordinates rooms that had played like some unfunny, muffled musical score falls on deaf ears.

_ ‘No. no.’ _

“Why would he think that?” She manages, shaking her head. She tells Chris how much she cares all the time, Phil does it too!  _ ‘Why would he ever-‘ _

“He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop” Phil mutters quietly, miserably. “What if he thought this was it? Una, when was the last time you saw him cry? Before that night?”

The question stuns her. Chris doesn’t necessarily shy away from the topic of crying. He  _ certainly _ doesn’t shy away from telling others that it’s ok to do so either. Hell, she’s watched him hold many an officer over the years after long days and missions. Let’s them cry into his shoulder as he pulls them in, murmurs comfort and rocks with them like it’s the most natural thing in the world until they calm down. But Chris himself crying?

“I,” Una manages quietly. “I don’t remember. After, the last fight? With... control?”  _ ‘With Discovery’  _ goes unspoken _ . _ That has not been a great forty eight hours for  _ anyone,  _ to put it mildly.

Phil nods once. “When was the last time he talked about... Vina?” He asks her, hesitating on her name. Una shakes her head, slowly reaching the same conclusion Phil has.

“Never. After we left Talos he just-“

“-Shut down.” She and Phil finish together. They pause, looking at each other.

_ “shit.” _ She manages, barely above a whisper. God, she's not much of a crier but the full realization of what’s possibly been going on these last few weeks are hitting her one after another, and the damn pollen and her body's incessant demands on top of the emotional whirlwind have her tear ducts threatening to change her whole ‘I’ll cry when my bones break and not a Moment Before’ complex and Phil doesn’t look much better.

“He’s not trying to push us away because he doesn’t want us. He’s trying to push us away because he thinks he has to do this by himself-“ Another despicable thought suddenly pings on her radar.

“But he  _ didn’t _ try to do that!” She hisses at him, trying desperately to keep her voice down and keep herself together. God knows someone in their trio needs to be the strong one and if she doesn’t get to break then she’ll be the one to make sure her boys  _ are. _

“He- god Phil,  _ he came to us! _ He stayed with you when he got the message instead of running away. He took you with him to get me. He  _ cried _ with us, and I. Oh my God Phil I told him it didn’t matter! I was trying to be comforting but, God I-“ One of her hands comes up to her face. She can’t believe this. Can’t process it. All this time she thought -she didn’t-

“Una” Phil takes her firmer in his arms. “Una-“

“Phil we didn’t check up on him after that” Her voice is deathly quiet. Phil freezes against her. She continues.

“I wanted to give him space but then, then he never came back and I just  _ assumed _ he went to you and that he would talk to me and he  _ didn’t.  _ And then I assumed he didn’t want to be around me anymore, but you thought the same thing, and neither of us ever asked and-“ she cuts herself off, tries to steady her breath, keep her voice down. There’s a beat of quiet, save for the sounds of their erratic breathing and muffled thumps and vague noises from the very much  _ still fucking _ subordinates two doors down. God, her life is a fucking joke.

“We need to talk to him.” She and Phil mutter in near perfect sync. In any other circumstances, them being close enough to finish each other’s sentences would make her laugh. Right now, it just makes her feel sick to her stomach. Phil darts into his room for a moment, shoves a handful of something into the pocket of his robe and reaches for something else.

“Mini-medkit” he offers up. She raises an eyebrow. Phil shrugs as his arm retracts into view. Water. His other hand comes to his mouth before raising the glass and taking a sip. “Painkillers” he says again, taps his temple and nods to Chris’s door.. “Just in case”

The restless energy from the pollen paired with the emotions running high comes back full force as they take the few steps to Chris’s door. She raps her knuckles on the wood-like substance and waits. She glances to Phil next to her.  _ ‘He’s got a medkit, and I’ve got enough confidence for the both of us, hopefully. That’s more than I could hope to have to walk into this conversation with in a time like this.’  _ They hear rustling behind his door.

_ ‘Let’s pray that it’s enough’ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion! Will our heroes get rid of the emotional boundaries between them? What will they do with the sex pollen? ARE THE ENSIGNS NEXT DOOR STILL FUCKING? Only time will tell.

The door pops open; first only a crack, then about halfway. Chris is revealed, looking worse for wear. Robe hastily done up, hair unkempt, generally disheveled looking. There’s a flush light on his face, normally bright eyes just a tad red around the edges. More stressed than she’s seen him in a long time. He opens his mouth, and Phil can practically  _ see _ him pulling on his Captain mask to talk to them instead of just speaking to them as Chris, and something in Phil just  _ snaps. _

It’s like a force has taken over his bones, like he’s in fight or flight and the hysterical strength has just hit him like a freight train. Before he can even think to control himself he’s darting forward and Una is nothing but a flash next to him. The two of them practically bum rush their poor boy, damn near bowling him over as they both shove through the doorway. Chris makes a shocked noise as he stumbles back, and Phil grabs one of his arms each and sees Una do the same and they drag him back in his own room. He vaguely hears the door slam behind them. Una must have kicked it shut with a little too much oomph, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Everyone that matters is in this room, and everyone else is too busy anyways. The sensation of something moving in his hand brings him back to the present. He looks up.

Chris’s arm is in his hand, pinned like a vice. He keeps glancing between himself and Una with clouded eyes. He looks stunned, maybe? Worried? They’re close, close enough that Una’s arm is brushing his side and Phil can almost feel Chris’s breath on his skin. If it weren’t for the robes-

Forgotten heat flares in him, and he has to take a second to take in a purposeful breath and quell the conflicting urges of his mind and body.  _ ‘This isn’t the time’. _ He pulls his hand away from Chris even though it feels so  _ wrong. _ It seems to take his boy a second to process the fact that they’ve released him. But it sinks in, and he takes two steps back and a solid breath of his own. Next to him, Una mimics the breath, and without saying a word he and Una both take a step away from each other as well. Personal space.

There they stand in in triangle formation not so dissimilar from where they were earlier, but so much further away. He realizes with a pang of regret that he misses their heat, their presences. They’re both only a few feet away from him but damn, do those few feet feel like miles. None of them say anything for a few moments. No one moves. Phil clears his throat. He didn’t think of what he was going to say.  _ ‘Maybe it's better that way’, _ he muses to himself.  _ ‘Stream of consciousness and all that’ _

“Chris,” he starts. Tries to organize his thoughts into something less harsh, more concise, not emotional. Fails. “Chris, what the  _ fuck?” _ . He’s too wired, too worried for him to soft serve this.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’” Chris retorts, crossing his arms.

“What do we mean?” Una cuts in. “You don’t talk to me for weeks, then we’re all buddy buddy on the walk here, and then you just fuck off into your room to wait this pollen out even when you  _ know _ thats dangerous?” 

Chris winces. “I wasn’t about to force either of you to-”

“And what-”

“Una” Phil cuts in, shoots her a look.  _ ‘Let Chris finish’,  _ he tells her with his eyes. She puts her hands up. Chris pauses.

“I wasn’t going to push responsibility for my health onto either of you. It’s my responsibility to take care of my crew.” he pauses again. “And, I care about you both too much to do that to you.” He won’t look at either of them. He’s also reverting to Captain Mode: impersonal, firm, a tone that books no room argument.

Phil picks one with him anyways. “Chris” he says, firmer this time. Chris looks at him, but still avoids his eyes. “Chris, you’re not ok. None of this is ok”

He takes a half step closer. Chris tenses ever so slightly. Phil moves no closer.

“Chris, none of this is ok. It hasn’t been for weeks. This whole thing,” Phil gestures at the air. “It’s a fucking nightmare. A giant miscommunication, and a fucking nightmare for everyone involved. And there’s things that need to be said and bridges to be mended but god, Chris. As your friend and your doctor In That Order, all I can focus on is the fact that the two people I care about more than anyone are hurting. Physically, mentally, emotionally. And fuck it, so am I.”

Phil pauses to take a much needed breath. Blinks back frustrated and stressed tears.

“Chris, I am so fucking sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t what you needed that night. I’m sorry I didn’t check in afterwards. I’m sorry I made an assumption based on such fragile logic that it would make Spock cry.” He trails off, fights to keep his voice in check. “Chris, I’m so sorry.”

Chris looks back at him mournfully. He shifts like he wants to take a step towards him, even reaches a bit with his arm, but stops himself, pained. Like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to come near him. And that damn near breaks his heart. What had happened to the easy touches between the three of them? The warm kisses, the playful grabs, the warm embraces?

“I can-“ Una starts. He and Chris both pivot to face her. Shit, she’s the most dauntless of them all; he’s seen her negotiate with the baddest of the bad without a second thought, but now? Now she looks like she’s never been more afraid of opening her mouth. Like it’s never been more of a challenge to keep her voice steady.

“I can only imagine how you feel, Chris. I- I was affected by all this too, and I wasn’t in the center of it like you’ve been. With-“ she motions vaguely with her hand, looking at the floor. “With all of it, these last few months. And I’m-“ She pauses again. her voice trembles.  _ She’s _ shaking, and god so is he, so is Chris. Between this and the pollen it’s like their whole bodies are struggling to hold up and make sense of the storm of conflicting urges and feelings. He can’t tell what parts of the storm make him want to cross the miles of distance between them and hold her, but he knows that he  _ does, _ and so, so badly.

“Chris, I’m  _ so sorry _ if it ever felt like we didn’t want you, or that you thought you couldn’t reach out to us, because I  _ never _ want you to think that.” Una finishes barely above a whisper. She takes a measly half step closer, like she’s terrified to do so but wants to too badly to resist. He knows the feeling. He’s restless and distraught and god, he just wants a damn group hug. He takes a step. He sees Chris in the corner of his eye follow suit.

Chris’s throat makes a soft clicking noise as he swallows. “I didn’t- I couldn’t put that kind of weight on you two”

“Chris we love you, you fucking idiot!” Una teases, even as her voice wobbles. Chris lets out a small huff of laughter, but his face still looks ashen, burneded. He keeps fidgeting on his feet. 

“Chris,” Phil says quietly. “We wouldn’t have been there that night if we didn’t love you. If we didn’t want to be with you.” He tries to be reassuring, but Chris only nods as he stares at the floor, jaw tight.

“We didn’t-” 

“We-” 

He and Una both start. Phil huffs a laugh that’s returned two fold. He gestures to Una.

“Chris, we didn’t check in with you because we thought -well, I thought, and Phil apparently  _ also _ thought- that you were with the other of us.“ she swallows. “I thought I had fucked up when I’d said what I did, so I wanted to give you space, and I thought you would come to me and I would apologize. But then that didn’t happen, and I saw you talking with Phil, so I thought you were still mad and that you didn’t want to be with me anymore but you didn’t want to tell me-” she forces out in a rush before trailing off. Gestures in the air and looks away. Chris is watching her with wide eyed rapt attention, and Phil hates the way he can’t read Chris like he could weeks ago and know what he’s thinking. Phil finds his own voice.

“And I had thought much the same” Chris turns to him then: stares deep in his eyes,trembling just so. 

“I had assumed you would want time to yourself before you would come to us. I expected you to... not return to  _ normal, _ but... return to  _ us? _ But you never came, and I never asked because I was afraid I would do more harm than good by making you talk about it, and then when I saw you walking from the bridge with Una, I had assumed  _ you two _ were together, and that you didn’t want  _ me _ for some reason, but I couldn’t figure out  _ why _ for the life of me, and I just-” He has to stop to breathe. His chest is tight, so so tight. The air around them is thin. Tense. So unlike how it’s always been for them before this whole fiasco that it makes him want to cry. His body aches for something,  _ anything; _ riddled with tension and poorly managed adrenaline. His system is working overtime and there’s no relief, no release in sight.

“For a trio who runs a ship  _ and  _ has… whatever this is” Una quips, “we’re  _ terrible _ at communication” Phil laughs weakly, Chris doesn’t. Una clocks it. The air constricts tighter like a boa around his neck.

Una sighs a trembling breath. Turns to face Chris, raises her head. “Chris, I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but,” she pauses, seems to choke on the words in her mouth. “I have to- If you don’t want to be… whatever this is, with us anymore-“ 

_ “NO”  _ Comes a choked, wobbling gasp.

Phil’s head whips to the sound. Chris looks back at them. Shit, he’s  _ crying. _

He’s looking at each of them with desperation in his eyes as his hands squeezing at his own arms. “No, I- god. I just,” Chris stutters as he shakes and Phil wants so desperately to reach for him, to wrap him and Una both up in his arms and never let them go. But he can’t. He has to hear him through first. Can’t reach for them until he  _ knows. _

“I’m so sorry to both of you. I just,” Chris’s voice wobbles. “I- I didn’t know how to react, and there’s been so much going on since Di- since the fight with Control, and I know that isn’t an excuse but it just hit me so hard-” A cut off wheeze, a swallow. “-and I thought that because  _ she _ was back that the both of you just,” a harsh breath. “That you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore because of that whole thing with her, and I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to stay-“ his voice shatters then, on the last word. Hands coming up to his face as he curls in on himself. Afraid. 

_ ‘Fuck’ _

He opens his mouth to say something, _anything_. Starts to cry out to call for Chris to look at him when his peripherals clock Una’s hand reaching out as she too makes some indecipherable _noise_ instead of words. The resulting sound of it is a chaotic, panicked, garbled scream of _noise_ from the both of them rather than any discernible language. Chris damn near jumps out of his skin, staring up at them with tears on his face and terror in his eyes. Una and himself both freeze, still half reaching towards Chris. 

_ ‘Way to go Phil. Half a century of speaking English and a decade of med school and when it counts the most, the best you can come up with is nonsense screaming’ _

Chris, bless his heart, stares at them in shock for a mere half second, face unreadable. And then Chris fucking  _ snorts. _ Makes a wheezed “Pfffffff” noise before he just breaks out into those straight up  _ giggles _ that Phil adores hearing. 

Before Phil can say or do anything, he hears a quiet choking noise next to him and by the time he looks at Una she’s already dropped the hand she had reached out and is falling hopelessly into her own hysterical laughter. And maybe it’s the the pollen dosing their endocrine systems, or a reaction to emotional stress, or maybe they’re  _ all  _ insane. But Phil finds himself hopelessly cracking up too. Tears down their faces, aroused as hell, emotionally exhausted, and they’re standing around crying laughing over the fact that three grown adults can’t speak in their own damn language. 

God, they’re such a collective mess.

“God, I’ve  _ missed  _ you.” Una manages eventually. Her hands wipe tears of various causes off her face, raise and gesture at them both before dropping back to her thighs. “I’ve missed  _ us. _ I miss Phil and I tag team sassing you over dinner. I miss us talking about how we fuck you” she adds teasingly, just to needle Chris a bit. It lands: Chris sputters indignantly. But there’s that sparkle in his eye that Phil hasn’t seen in weeks and he’s grinning at her and Phil’s shared laugh. The air feels a bit looser. They each sway just a bit closer.

His body doesn’t feel like its waging war between conflicting impulses anymore, and the stress that caused seems to have left . He can  _ breathe.  _

Una gestures vaguely towards the left wall with one hand.

“God, I was over in my room listening to the lieutenants fuckin’ like rabbits over there, and you” She points to Chris, “Were in here trying to solve this shit like  _ I was-“ _ Chris flushes at that, looks down at his feet with a bashful smile, rubs at the back of his neck with one hand.

“I see we all tried to lone wolf it, to no avail” Phil quips dryly.

“Twice, yeah” Una mutters tiredly.

“Once for me. I’m not an overachiever” 

Una sighs through a laugh, rubbing her face. “Ugh. I just wanted you two  _ so badly, _ but I thought you were with him, and he thought you were with me,” and then she makes a sharp pivot to Phil, shaking a finger.

“And I’m  _ real _ glad you and I figured that shit out  _ now _ because I can’t imagine all of us going another night alone, but  _ especially _ this one, given the circumstances.” 

Chris huffs out a small laugh.

“So our subordinates are having a goddamn orgy two doors down to the left, another few are down on the right having  _ at least _ a threesome, and we’re over here having an emotional breakthrough?” He laughs, gestures with his hands as he asks humorously, “Is  _ everyone _ having sex besides us?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way” Phil offers quietly, gently.

A beat of charged silence passes, considering. They’ve never been all together at once. Not like how he proposes it. Not like how his skin  _ burns _ with want for it.  Sure, he and Una have had more than a few fun times toge ther: chaste pecks on faces, humored flirting, a few sloppy kisses and brazen touches in storage closets here and there when tensions ran a bit too high. They’ve each fucked Chris six ways to Sunday and ended up gossiping about it the following Monday. But never  _ together. _ Somehow. Always teased, never touched on. At this point, he wants nothing more than to know what that’s like. Anything outside the two of them can wait. 

_ ‘And if I know my two golden dumbasses as well as I hope I do, they feel it too’ _

“Maybe” Una pitches. “we can have a little fun, burn off some of this pollen and then,” Una takes a breath, letting it out slowly as she continues, “maybe... lay around together for a while?” She glances at the floor. Phil wants to laugh. Asking for fucking  _ cuddles _ is more risqué and intimate than asking for make-up sex for her? God, he loves that woman. She continues, “See how we feel? Pillow talk some of this out-“

“-and save the rest for a dinner date? All of us together?” Phil finishes for her hopefully.

“Una picks drinks, Phil picks dinner, I pick dessert?” Chris adds shyly, looking up at them with a small, hopeful smile.

Phil huffs. “As long as we  _ actually communicate _ what we’re in the mood for this time. Nobody wants a repeat of the ‘Andorian fish with Dinave wine’ night” he gripes. And oh, the laughs his stupid little quip pulls from Una and Chris sound like such a fucking  _ release. _ He feels his body finally relax, feels the pulsing attraction and heat that was buried under everything else start to rise to the surface in earnest. He feels warm, oversensitive, and it is  _ so nice. _

“Hey, That Malaysian dessert was  _ fantastic” _ Una jumps in, defending the night in question.

Chris chuffs. “Yeah, but as happy as I am that I managed to redeem our date, bowls of Kacang isn’t exactly  _ a meal, _ and it’s  _ certainly _ not dinner”

“Ok, but did we die?  _ No. _ That’s a successful meal right there” Una retorts back with finality, though her compose starts to crumble as Chris throws his head back in giggles.

“Una,  _ how bad _ were the dates you went on before ones with us?!” he asks incredulously. He sounds so convincingly distraught that Una bursts into giggles; the  _ special giggles _ that she gets all embarrassed about and tries to cover her face when they strike, but Chris and Phil  _ adore. _ God, it’s been too long since he’s heard them laugh like this. She looks at them both when her hands pull away, smile so wide and honest that it makes him blush just looking at it. Chris’s eyes are shining. Phil shakes his head even as he giggles with them. He knows he looks all stupid and embarrassed, staring down at his shoes and covering his face but he can’t help it. The things his golden idiots do to him.

He looks up at them, and god, their faces are so open and honest as he faces them, it’s unbearably warm. He knows he looks no better. 

“Yeah,” he nods, looking wistfully at his fidgeting fingers. “That, that sounds like heaven,'' he admits, half laughing. He can’t help how soft it comes out, or the grin stretching across his face. He’s so warm. He feels almost  _ drunk _ with the heady affection. Maybe the pollen is finally dosing him with the endorphins he’s been craving so badly, so  _ bodily. _ He doesn’t know. He feels  _ great.  _ He looks back to his loves. They look back at each other. Silently debate, decide,  _ move. _

The last few steps between them are crossed, arms outstretched until  _ finally _ contact is made. He can’t help but gasp at the contact, swears it sizzles on his skin as hands trace up and up and up on each others arms with a slow grace. The echoing gasps from his partners ricochet through him, hit him somewhere that just  _ begs _ to hear them again. Its moments before  they’re encircle d in each other’s arms, heads together, breathing the same few inches of air. His eyes shut from how overwhelming it already is, how it does nothing but stoke the flames, how he needs so much more. When he opens them, Una and Chris are looking at each other. Chris’s eyes flicker to her lips, grinning. Una playfully grabs both their chins and Chris chuckles and his breath on Phil’s skin sends shivers down his spine. They’ve only attempted this once while drunk, but if there’s a time for take two, it may as well be now. Una is already giggling before the three of them can even get close enough to make contact, so Chris has to be the one to guide them the rest of the way. His lips first hit Una’s, then Chris’s. His nose bumps awkwardly until he shifts and Una tilts and Chris laughs and the three of them manage to get together into something that at least resembles the three man kiss she was envisioning.

And though they laugh airily through their noses as their chins bump and their noses smush, the low arousal that had been little more than burned ashes in a fireplace quietly roar to life. Phil pulls back but steps closer, wraps the two of them up and Una cups Chris’s face and deepens the kiss. Feels his breath labor when Chris pulls away to turn to him now, pulls him in and kisses the hell out of him even when he laughs at Una palming his ass. And when he pulls away, turns to his golden gal and cups her face, she grins up at him with half-lidded eyes and kisses him like its her favorite pastime. 

The tension is gone, the air is warm and sickly sweet with pollen, and the night is still young.

In any other circumstances, maybe this would play out sweeter, slower. Maybe they would laugh some more at their three man kiss before pulling at each other’s robes. Maybe they would have taken their time breathing in the overwhelmingly sweet air, feeling the soft sheets of the bed, the warmth of each other’s skin.

These are not those circumstances.

Their three man mashing of mouths quickly goes from hilarious to hurried, full of desperation. They’ve been apart for far too long. Emotions too high, bodies too desperate for each other’s skin. It’s gnawing at her like the need will consume all of them if they don’t get their hands on each other  _ now. _ Una loses her robe within seconds, and Chris and Phil follow her example. The knot on Chris’s belt gets stuck firmly in place and he makes a whiny noise that’s half laughter half genuine frustration until Una and Phil help him out of it, laughing breathlessly as they slide their hands over the exposed skin. Phil manages to yank his off all by himself but in doing so slips on someone elses and falls flat on his ass. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s so wet her thighs are chafing ever so slightly, she would have been sent into a full on laughing fit at the sight. Still, she and Chris both laugh as they tug their lover back on his feet and over to the bed.

Chris and Una crash into and then tip over onto said bed in an inelegant heap, Phil landing somewhere behind them. There’s vague sounds of Phil rooting around for something next to the bed, but she hardly pays it any mind as in nearly the same moment one of Chris’s hands comes up to her breast and steals all her attention. Phil joins them soon enough, moving in to kiss her neck while a hand moves to grab Chris’s hip. She peels back from Chris just far enough to glance at their other lover. The hand not clasping Chris is closed into a fist. He’s holding something.

Phil seems to clock her look. Grins and opens his hand to reveal two small packets of…. Lube?

She glances up at him incredulously. “You planned for this?!”

Under her, Chris starts giggling like a madman. Phil shrugs, still grinning.

“I had my hopes. ‘S why I grabbed the medkit”

This time, its Una who bursts out laughing as she reels him in for a kiss.

When Phil collapses onto them and joins in the joy of necking like teenagers they sigh in sync, relieved. The skin on skin contact seems to make the gnawing ache in their bones subside; the warmth and feeling of crushing each other within the embrace a soothing weight. Not enough; not by far. But it takes enough of the edge off that they won’t be sprinting for the finish line in a mad scramble to get each other off. Probably.

Phil and Chris shuffle to lay her out lovingly on the bed first, followed closely by Chris on top of her, then Phil pressing into both of them over Chris’s back. Chris kisses her, threads his fingers through her hair as Phil sucks bitemarks into Chris’s neck. Chris shifts gradually downward to kiss her collarbones and her lips meet Phil’s over his shoulder. It’s a slow tangle of hands and legs and warmth and it’s sweet, oh so sweet like the perfumed air, but it’s very quickly not enough. Not even close. Una squeezes Phil’s hand, pulls back enough to look him in the eyes as Chris bites her carotid. A few seconds of silent conversation pass. Phil nods, pulls back, rocks onto his heels behind Chris.

Una wraps Chris up her arms, threads her fingers through his hair, earning a shiver and a pleased hum. She moans at his tongue laving at the bruise he’s sucked into her neck. Behind him, Phil lean down and nudges Chris’s legs open. She watches with rapt attention as Phil leans down, kisses down Chris’s spine vertebrae by vertebrae, reaches his lower back and leaves one last kiss before shifting even lower. Spreads Chris with his hands before leaning in and though she can’t see it, presumably swipes his tongue across Chris’s rim. Chris’s whole body tenses up in her arms and he stutters a surprised noise into her throat. Chris pulls off her, probably to say something or other but Phil seems to swipe another broad lick over him because Chris gasps instead, forehand falling back against her collarbone. Una nuzzles the top of his head as his hands twitch at her waist. He’s blushing  _ a hell  _ of a lot, and it begs a question.

“Anyone ever done this to you before, love?” She quietly asks. He slowly rolls his head against her in a ‘no’, hips twitching as he shivers at Phil’s slow ministrations.

“Never. I-” a sharp hitch of breath, “They didn’t offer, I didn’t ask” he manages between soft pants. ‘ _ Interesting phrasing there’. _ Seems like even back then, he let his partners dictate much of his pleasure, take control. She wonders if that’s because of his unending politeness or a part of why he loves when she or Phil top. If he’ll let them do what his other loves hadn’t and ravish him like this. Una shifts her gaze to over Chris’ back and catches Phil’s eye.

—

Phil looks over the plane of Chris’s strong back and holds Una’s gaze as she asks Chris another question.

“Do you want to stop?”

He’ll do so in a heartbeat if Chris says yes, they all know it. But he  _ also  _ knows  _ Chris. _ Knows him well enough to know that he’s probably feeling exposed, vulnerable; like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to like something or not. That he probably more afraid of enjoying this than not, because of how vulnerable he is like this. Hell, he’s probably considering answering yes if only to save himself the questions and discomfort. But god, if he’ll just let himself-

Phil swipes his tongue again, points it to stab at Chris’s opening and it earns him a whimper. Does it again, pushes harder. Just a bit; just enough to give his boy the impression of what it would be like when Phil slides his tongue home, what it would be like to be clenched around it as he licks into him. And it works, if the surprised and softly panted  _ “hah”  _ is anything to go by. He pulls back a tad, scrapes his teeth softly against his rim before repeating all of it over again. The full body shiver and soft moan he’s rewarded with are  _ incredible. _ Chris usually only moans when he’s close, or so lost in subspace or on edge that he doesn’t care to muffle his cries because he literally doesn’t have the brain space for it. Phil presses into him with his tongue just a bit harder, just a bit deeper.

_ “please”  _

He barely heard it, so quiet and slurred. Phil glances up. Chris has his head buried into Una’s neck, arms tucked in as hers wind around him. His breaths are labored, blush high on his cheeks and the softest, tiniest pull of a pleased grin at the corner of his mouth. Phil watches Una press a soft kiss into his temple as she strokes his hair, winks at him over Chris’s shoulder, and he takes that as his green light to go harder. 

He licks Chris open slow and filthy like he’s putting on the show of his life. Swipes at him in broad messy licks, drags his teeth against the rim to tease, sucks on the edges in a way that makes goddamn obscene noises. He points his tongue intermittently and pushes at the opening with increasing pressure before pulling away  _ just _ before it could spear him open. Everytime, Chris whimpers and whines oh so sweetly at the denial, and everytime Phil can’t help but grin against him in response. There’s spit down his chin and Chris’s rim is fluttering under his tongue and he feels like a mess but god, is it  _ so good. _ Chris is  _ beautifully  _ responsive through all of it, shuddering and moaning helplessly between Phil’s mouth and Una’s arms. If there was any embarrassment, it’s been teased out of him. Chris looks like he’s  _ reveling _ in being exposed, teased, messily taken apart like this until he’s ruined, and god it’s such an unbelievably attractive look for him. In between licks, Phil just manages to make out the sight of Una peeling one hand away from their partner and reaching it down between her own legs, and his dick twitches with nearly forgotten need.

He goes down on Chris for what feels like  _ ages. _ By the time he even wonders how long it’s been his jaw is starting to ache and Chris’s rim is red and teased to oversensitivity, Chris is shaking like a leaf under his tongue and in Unas arms. He’s begging for him softly, for mercy, for him to just “fuck him finally”. 

When Phil finally decides to give him that mercy and pushes his tongue into him in one slick steady shove, Chris moans so low and so full of naked arousal that Phil feels a pulse of precome pulse from his own dick. He dimly hears Una curse over the sound of blood pulsing in his ears. They’re all shaking with the unresolved tension, the denial, and it’s as unbearable as it is  _ so fucking hot. _ He focuses and redoubles his efforts, gets into a rhythm. Plunges his tongue deep into Chris before curling it against the inside of his rim as he pulls back out so it catches. Sucks at the ring of muscle that’s so red and hypersensitive at his ministrations that it’s gotta be torturous. Laps broadly over it before he repeats the cycle. 

Chris  _ loves _ it. He started to make these gorgeous punched out sobs at the feel of it that go straight to Phil’s dick. God, he can’t wait to do this to him the next time, whether that be tomorrow morning or weeks from now. Tease him till he’s like this again and take him properly. He feels drunk off the cries, off the sight of his ever put-together lover losing his mind. His head feels cloudy and delirious and he can’t tell if it’s the pollen or the sex or both but all he knows is he needs  _ more, _ he can’t stop. More of Chris’s noises, more of Una’s, more of their skin. Fantasies start flinging around his mind left and right. He wants to do this again: tease Chris for ages and then watch him squirm and cry out at the feel of Phil’s cock pressing into his oversensitized ass, stretching and catching his rim with every thrust, make him  _ scream _ with how much it is. He wants him and Una to tie him up and take turns diving between his legs until he cries and begs for mercy. Fuck, he wants Una to tie  _ both _ of them up and have her way with them however she pleases. He wants to fuck into Chris as Una rides him and trap him between them until they’re all fucked out and shaking and sore and useless.

Mid-tongue curl, as Chris is burying his head even further into Unas neck, Phil manages to catch Una beginning to speak.

“You think you could come from this?”

Chris moans in reply, seemingly too far gone for words. Phil looks up just in time to see Una grab Chris’s hair roughly and jerk his head so she can hiss in his ear,

“We wanna hear an answer  _ baby” _ and that seems to trigger something, or maybe it’s the feel of Phil’s tongue swirling against him insistently, but Chris whines regardless and starts disjointedly muttering.

“God I dunno I can’t-  _ Fuck!” _ Chris head pulls back as his spine shifts sinuously with the pleasure Phil pulls from him. “God Phil  _ don't stop, _ I-, so fucking good. Ah!” And then he’s shaking his head to try and clear it, continues even as his voice wavers, “God, I want- but, no. Can’t just leave you guys hanging, just beca-  _ oh, Phil!” _ His right leg twitches up, opening himself wider for Phil despite his words. Even as he tries to tell them their pleasure matters more than his -that he supposedly wants them to  _ stop  _ because of that, his body refuses to corroborate the lie his brain is trying to sell.

_ ‘Oh no baby boy,’ _ Phil thinks, pushing a pointed tongue to swirl around his rim as Chris whimpers.  _ ‘You’re not getting away that easy’ _

Phil pulls away just long enough to quip, “You’ll still have your mouth for us, pretty boy” and promptly dives back in to roughly suck at the muscle, pulling a strained moan from Chris. One of Phil’s hands fumbles for the packet of lube he had all but discarded earlier, tearing at the edge of it clumsily.

Una threads a hand oh her own through Chris’s hair and scratches at his scalp -a move they both know Chris is weak at the knees for- as she adds, “And we have  _ all night. _ And, the rest of our  _ five year mission _ to do this to you again and again. You’re not leaving us hanging baby” Chris moans high in his throat in reply as his forehead drops to Unas collarbone, eyes screwed shut, probably lost in the thought of them doing this over and over, the sensations of her hands pulling his hair and Phil’s tongue in his ass only adding to the suggestion. Phil ghosts now slick fingers across Chris’s rim as he pulls away again,

“Now let’s try that again. Do you wanna find out if you can come from this,  _ gorgeous?” _ The pet name does it, if the way Chris’s shoulders visibly relax at the sound of it is any indication. He melts between them, takes a few quiet huffs of breath. He helplessly nods after a moment and Phil obligingly pushes a finger against his rim. The first slides with zero resistance, and so he pulls it back, adds another. Pushes back in just as quick and feels him tighten up. Chris cries out a breathy “ah!” at the stretch and Phil leans back down, swipes his tongue over the edge where his fingers meet his rim just to tease, just to torture. Chris whimpers and makes these soft whines as he pushes his tongue in alongside his fingers, licking into him roughly. He scrapes his teeth against him, sucks, pistons his fingers and his tongue in alternating movements. Chris soaks it up helplessly,  _ losing it, _ flying towards his peak *fast*, faster than the entirety of the rest of the time Phil has had his mouth on him from how merciless he’s suddenly being to the oversensitized flesh. His dick is leaking so much where it’s pressed to Unas thigh and he’s begging for both of them so prettily in between soft cries and gasps for more. Una strokes his hair and holds his hips so he can’t grind himself off on her, renders him helpless to do anything but lay there and take whatever they give him. Just how he likes it,  _ needs it. _

“God, you have any idea how good you both look?”

_ Oh no, _ Phil won’t be able to handle it if Una starts to dirty talk. She better not start talking dirty to  _ him while _ he’s doing this because he is so damn close already and if he comes from just her speaking he knows for a fact that he will  _ never  _ hear the end of it. She’ll have a power over him that he will  _ never _ be able to seize back.

“God you just fucking  _ love  _ this don’t you? Love what Phil’s doing to you, how filthy it is, don’t you baby?” Chris whimpers from where he’s nodding into her chest, too far gone to feel shame. “God baby what I wouldn’t give to keep you like this for  _ ages. _ You’re never sexier than when you let us ruin you, you know that?”

He and Chris  _ both _ moan at that -because  _ god, _ who just says shit like that- and damn him if the downright  _ insidious  _ grin she gives him over the plane of Chris’s back doesn’t go straight to his dick, threatening to drag him within an inch of the edge.

“I can’t wait till we get back to the ship. Replicate a new toy to hit you right where you need it-“ Phil helps feed into the fantasy off instinct; pushes his fingers right into Chris’s prostate as she says it. He’s rewarded with a gasp from Chris and a pleased smile from Una that somehow makes him want to drop to his knees despite already being on them. “-Make it so I can go down on you next, rim you where you’re stretched around it. Maybe shove my tongue up in next to it if you’ve been good.  _ Will _ you be good?” And Chris whimpers harder, nearly hyperventilating as he nods into her collarbone. And fuck, Phil wants a ticket to that show; Chris’s legs are shaking from the idea alone. But oh, Una’s not done killing them, apparently.

“Next shore leave I’m gonna find one of those plugs that has those little vibrating micro beads in the divot that feel like rimming, maybe send you up to the bridge with it. Maybe get  _ two _ and send the other down to medical during report hours with Phil. What do you think about that boys?”

Oh no, oh  _ no. _ Black Fucking Alert he’s been roped into this, he’s  _ part _ of it now. It’s overwhelming him now: the mental images, the thought of what it would feel like sat in his chair as the toy in him buzzes and spins against him, her smug and even tone. It all hurdles Phil so close to the edge so suddenly that he damn near has whiplash from it. He’s helpless but to whimper as he works on fucking Chris into the next century. And god, Chris isn’t a single shred better.

It’s like something in him is breaking, the last of his composure crumbling to dust. He trembles between them, so clearly on the razor's edge of coming that he’s damn near losing his mind with it.

“God Una  _ please,  _ Phil, god, fuck. I’d-“ a desperate swallow as he whimpers at the curl of Phil’s tongue, the stab of his fingers. “-I’d come before I even reached the bridge, fuck. Fuck  _ please” _

And _ that _ very nearly makes Phil come on the spot; Chris knowing he would come well before he reached the bridge and  _ still _ wanting it,  _ begging _ for it. Phil’s heart is racing, his skin slick and overheated and he’s shaking and feels like he’s gonna rip apart atom by atom any second now. He thinks for a moment that the two of them are gonna kill him, and then Una starts talking again, and then he  _ knows _ they’re gonna kill him.

“You know that now we’re never gonna be able to keep our hands off you, right? Now we know how weak you are for this, for  _ us? _ You know we’re gonna just bend you over your bed, your desk, the ready room table and take you like this whenever we want, right?”

God, Phil can  _ see _ it. Can see himself and Una pinning him down to the ready room table while one of them eats him out. Can see Una sitting up on the desk, spreading her legs for Chris, whispering for him to be good to her and Phil will let him come. God it makes his skin burn.

Chris is panting and whining and grabbing at Unas waist in unthinking need. He’s so far gone, so close to coming. And then Una leans in and hisses just barely loud enough for the three of them to hear,

“And I  _ know _ you aren’t opposed to that. You love it too much, don’t you baby? Love how filthy it is, how vulnerable you are. No, You’re too much of a  _ slut  _ for it”

For all that that one sentence does to utterly *wreck* Phil and push him to the edge, it is  _ nothing _ compared to what it does to their boy.

Chris’s eyes snap open. He comes damn near  _ instantly  _ with a strangled, surprised shout as he curls inwards. His hips shake and buck and twitch helplessly between them. Phil acts quickly; shoves his fingers hard right into his prostate and grinds them against him and it only makes Chris cry out louder, shudder harder, desperately chanting “yes yes  _ yes” _ high in his throat as he comes for what seems like  _ ages, _ back bowed, head back, grinding mindlessly into Unas thigh through the waves of it.

Phil fucks him through it, even a bit past it. Swipes perfunctory licks against him as he comes down, slouched in Unas arms and making soft pleased noises, only pulls away when Chris’s thighs stop trembling. When he looks back up, Chris panting into Unas breastbone as she pushes one hand through his hair, the other wrapping around him. She leans into Chris’s head, presses kisses everywhere she can reach, murmurs something soft that he can’t hear but assumes is a check in by how he nods against her, sighing contentedly. She laughs softly and oh so warmly, kisses him some more. It makes his heart skip a few beats. God, they’re just too sweet together. And he gets to be here to see it. 

_ ‘No, I get to be a part of it’ _

He kisses back up Chris’s spine with care, smooches his temple with a soft joking ‘ _ mwah’  _ when he reaches his head just to feel Chris chuckle between them. Una grabs his chin gently, steers his face to look at her for a moment before she pulls him in for a kiss. Chris’s warm breath ghosts their collarbones and raises goosebumps on both their skin.

Phil absentmindedly puts one of his hands on Unas thigh as they kiss, slides them up slow and sure. Una hums against his lips as she parts them with ease. She hooks the one that isn’t still pinned under Chris around Phil’s hips and drags him in closer. And fuck, when she does the head of his cock brushes the upper inside of her thigh and he feels how wet she is, and god, he’s so hard. He had barely realized, too swept up in the spectacle that was Chris’s orgasm to notice, but now? The heat clawing at him for hours surges back into him full force; damn does he need her, need  _ them. _ Their lips part when they feel Chris’s hair softly drag across their chins as he moves. They turn, and god, he looks incredible. Hair all stuck up, lips wet and bitten, eyes half lidded as he looks at them.

“I think,” Chris starts, voice low and rough. “I would like to watch my favorite people in this world get off now. Together” and he looks at them with that same dimpled grin he flashes to foreign dignitaries and Admirals alike, the one that says ‘I’m gonna put on the charm and get everything I want’, but it’s so much  _ softer, _ so much more personal. It’s just for  _ them. _

_ ‘Fuck, he really is gonna get everything he wants’ _

And then Una’s leg is tightening around his back, pulling Phil’s hips flush to hers as she leans over to kiss Chris and his frontal lobe seems to check out entirely.

—

Una has to kiss him then, she really does. He looks too soft and cocky to  _ not _ kiss him. Her leg pulls Phil closer as she does, and she can feel the base of his dick pressing between her legs. Phil keens softly. She’s so fucking turned on; had come once just from watching Chris, feeling him squirm in her arms, listening to his whimpers, but god, it barely took the edge off. She needs more, she needs  _ them. _ She and Chris break their kiss and he scrambles off her side to sit up against the headboard to give them more room. She takes it, flips herself and Phil over so he’s on his back and half laying in Chris’s lap when she straddles him. She’s lining them up and the head of his cock brushes her clit and they both make tiny cries in their throats, so oversensitive and close already. He won’t last long and neither will she and she doesn’t care,  _ can’t  _ care, just needs him now however she can have him.

She sinks down on him in one long, slow slide. Phil hisses, hands scrabble for purchase and finds it clawing at Chris’s legs. Chris responds with such soft soothing noises, trails fingers through Phil’s short cropped hair in such a caring way that Una would be lovestruck if she wasn’t very taken with them already -And also if she weren’t preoccupied with trying to take the entirety of Phil’s dick in one go. Finally, he’s buried to the hilt and her head throws itself back. She huffs out a desperate, breathless laugh at how good it feels, how fucking  _ nice _ the stretch is. God, how had they never done this before? His dick hits her damn near  _ exactly  _ where she needs it, curves up in her so nice, and god, he’s trying to buck up into her already, fuck into her even when he’s trapped under her. Good. She’s always loved a responsive partner.

She grinds her hips against his in slow languid circles if only to feel the arousal  _ burn _ under their skin just a bit more, make the pleasure even sweeter. She keeps it slow, tries to find her rhythm, tries to give him time to adjust-

Which promptly  _ flies out the fucking window _ when she tries to reach a hand between her legs and Phil swats it away like he’s mildly annoyed by the attempt. Promptly shoves his own fingers against her instead. He spreads them, frames her clit with them before grinding them against her in fast hard circles that just  _ light her up. _ She cries out with it, taken off guard by how fast it’s all happening, how quickly it’s making her lose it. Clenches down on him in a way that makes his fingers falter, makes him hiss and squirm and beg for her under his breath. She rocks her hips harder into him, not so much riding him as half grinding half bouncing, faster and faster, quick hard thrusts that make them both tremble. Phil is crying out softly, panting, rolling under her, meeting her thrusts as best he can.

“Una” he gasps, “Una I’m not gonna-“

“It’s ok” she pants as her hips roll with reckless abandon. God she’s so close so  _ fucking  _ close if she can just get there-

And then Phil is throwing his head back and gasping her name and shuddering as he comes and she whines low in her throat at the feeling of him pulse in her. Rolls her hips harder and shoves her hand back between her legs to frantically rub her clit now that Phil’s hand has stilled.

Some unknown panicked desperation starts to seep in at the edges of her awareness as Phil starts to go still, twitching in the aftershocks and overstimulation. God she’s so  _ fucking _ close but is  _ just _ too far away from it and she feels like she’s gonna fly apart atom by atom if she can’t, if she doesn’t, she  _ needs it so bad- _

She vaguely feels Phil shift under her. Someone’s hands pull her off him and before she can even say anything, do anything, those same hands slide until arms encircle her, a broad chest pressing to her back, guiding her back slowly, gently. Somehow, against everything, it starts to soothe the storm of increasing desperation in her. She feels breath on her ear as his head pulls close to her,

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you love”

Chris. Of course it’s Chris. Murmuring sweet nothings into her ear and softening her sharp edges like he’s spent years doing so  _ -’and god,’ _ she thinks with a desperate laugh,  _ ’he has’-  _ . His hands are wrapping her up so gently, pulling him against him like she weighs nothing but means  _ everything _ to him and the manhandling feels so good, so nice, settling over her mind like a warm blanket on a cold night and rendering her boneless. She vaguely wonders if this is how her boys feel when she takes control. Warm. Surrounded. Cared for.

One arm snakes around her hips guiding her down onto his other hand with pointed fingers and she's whining at the feeling of being full again, of three thick fingers pushing in with no resistance. He swears softly in her ear as they both feel Phil’s come drip down his fingers. God, it’s  _ filthy, _ it’s  _ obscene- _

And it’s  _ so fucking hot. _

He fucks her fast and hard without preamble, holding her to his chest like a rag doll as he kneels behind her and fucks his fingers into her. Her head falls back on his shoulders as her hand slips to her clit and rolls hard and fast circles. _ ‘So good so good fuck fuck’. _ Someone’s hand suddenly wraps around her wrist and stills it and she honest to god  _ growls _ low in her throat at the fucking nerve. She feels the vibrations of Chris chuckling against her and she lifts her head and opens her eyes to tell the owner of that hand that they better fucking-

And she manages to look just in time to see Phil, who has now seemingly recovered, shift on the bed and wrap his mouth around her clit, tongue darting out to curl against her. 

Her spine lights up with red hot lust so suddenly it's like the air has been punched out of her, leaving her gasping. It’s definitely not the best angle for him but god it’s  _ even fucking filthier _ and even fucking hotter. Phil’s come dribbling out of her, down Chris’s fingers, over Phil’s chin, Chris’s come smearing on his cheek where it’s still cooling on her thigh from earlier. The same mouth that was making Chris scream only a little while ago is now wrapped around her clit, tongue flicking up against her just so and  _ oh dear god he probably did the same thing with that tongue when it was inside Chris- _

And god that thought’s too much and she’s coming, finally, half laughing and half screaming in delirious relief and shaking. She’s crying out and calling their names and writhing into them and her head flies back again and nearly clocks Chris in the face but she doesn’t care, can’t care, it’s too fucking good too fucking much  _ so fucking good _ . It’s lighting up her spine and making her thighs shake and she’s clenched so tight around Chris’s fingers and she’s grabbing at the arm around her midsection, probably clawing the hell out of him and she’ll kiss them better later but right now she couldn’t give less of a fuck and  _ god. _

She slumps against them, finally, gasping and exhausted. They gently maneuver her and themselves around to lay back in the bed away from the wet spot -very courteous of them, ever the gentlemen. She ends up in the middle: head tucked onto Chris’s shoulder, Phil’s head on her chest, legs tangled, ands are a mess in the middle and half wrapped around each other. For a few moments, they just breathe. Just bask in it. After a few moments, she realizes each of their breaths are synced. It fills her with a unique comfort.

Phil shoots a tired smile at them both, reels Chris in for a sloppy kiss. When they pull away they look at each other with shining eyes and so much open affection that she thinks her heart is gonna explode. They both turn to give her the same smiles, same light in their eyes, same  _ love. _ She gives Chris a soft kiss before turning and giving the same to Phil. It’s so warm; not the fiery heat that consumed them just moments ago, but a pleasant spreading warmth that hums in her core, leaves her more content than she ever thought she could be.

“Christ” Chris sighs through a bit of a laugh. She laughs airliy as Phil shakes silently against her. 

“Tell us how you really feel, Dimples” she jokes. Chris shakes his head as he smacks her lightly in the arm. 

“I’m serious! I think we almost died” he cuts off with a laugh, and that's when she loses it, giggling and delighting in the feeling of her boys snickering on either side of her. “I Know I’m setting myself up for manipulation and handing you the keys to my demise here, but if either of you walked into the ready room while I was working and asked to do that again, there’s a 90% chance of success there” 

“Oh good, we finally have a plan for when you refuse to leave your desk” Phil quips. “We just have to fuck you over it”

Chris buries his head into her neck to avoid answering, so she takes that as an emphatic ‘yes’.

Many minutes pass in pleasant quiet. The only sounds the soft wind carrying sweet air into the room, the rain outside, the various shuffling noises from other rooms floating through their windows. Laying in each others arms, just listening to it all. It’s unspeakably peaceful.

Until that is, they hear those shuffling noises pick up speed, and barely muffled cries rising in pitch, coming from outside their window.

Oh, right. The windows. The large, basically open windows with paper screens that block out and keep in exactly  _ nothing. _ That are mere feet away from  _ other _ open windows. Which house their colleagues on the other side of.

She can feel all three of them tense, start to burn with embarrassment. And it’s only a few minutes before it somehow only gets  _ worse. _

“Fuck, babe!”

“Oh, oh fuck”

“Shhh!  _ Quiet! _ the windows are fucking open” Someone hisses at their lovers.

_ ‘*They* at least remembered that,’ _ Una thinks dryly.

“They’ve been fucking for ages! They don’t care!” Retorts another in a stage whisper.

Her heart stops. Chris and Phil stiffen again her. The hands idly stroking her skin stop in their tracks.

“ _ ‘Oh Phil’ ‘God, Una’, ‘Chris, Fuck!’ _ ” One of them mocks. “Like, _ come on. _ They couldn’t give a shit!”

Their subordinates late night rendezvous has either come to an end, or has been put on hold, judging by their muffled laughter and continued hushed mocking. In their own room, the three of them are still frozen, gobsmacked.

And then Chris snorts out a quiet but still poorly stifled laugh from under her arm and Phil starts to chuckle breathlessly into her right breast and  _ god help her, _ it sets her off into a fit of giggles. Within seconds they’re  _ cackling: _ curling into each other, hitting each others arms with the backs of hands, trying and failing to cover up their mouths and quiet the nearly unhinged noises. She doesn’t know if it’s the emotional rollercoaster they’ve been on all night, or that nervous energy from the pollen, or the sex endorphins, or  _ what,  _ but this entire mess is just suddenly the  _ funniest fucking thing _ she’s ever beared witness to.

“You think,” Phil wheezes into her collarbone. “You think they heard us?!” He manages to squeak out sarcastically amidst peals of laughter. God, she loves it when his voice goes all high and squeaky when he laughs.

“Oh, oh,  _ you don’t say, Phillip”  _ she chortles back through a grin. Chris wheezes against her.

“God, how the-“ Chris breaks off into a giggle fit before taking a desperate breath. “How the  _ fuck _ am I supposed to give orders tomorrow?!” He asks on a rising note as his breath stutters. “They know I-“ and then he’s squeaking softly and burying his head in her neck to hide his burning face. 

Phil shakes his head against her, takes a few gasping breaths. “Chris, Chris listen. I’m CMO, right? I know  _ everything _ about who  _ fucks,  _ ok?” And she knows what he’s  _ trying _ to say- ‘I know who’s hooking up with who and how, if they know what’s good they won’t say a word’, but god. The way he puts it, or maybe the high they’re still riding, or the sleep deprivation, whatever it is it just fucking  _ destroys _ them all over again and whatever Phil was going to say about potential blackmail to keep their subordinates quiet is hopelessly lost as their coworkers voices pipe up audibly again.

“Wait, do you hear that?”

“Is that them?”

“Why the fuck are they laughing? Wait, Sev. Shit! Did they fucking hear us?!”

Their subordinates panic floating in through the room only serves to make her ribs hurt more as they laugh even fucking harder. Phil damn near rolls off the bed he’s laughing so hard, and she’s at least eighty percent sure Chris is laughing so hard he’s been reduced to tears. God, this whole situation is fucking  _ ridiculous.  _ They’re naked in bed together after having a flower induced threesome on some random fucking planet, laughing their asses off at hearing their subordinates fucking two rooms over. And then they’re losing it all over again at the sounds of the subsequent argument they hear their subordinates have over whether the three of them are laughing at them or something else, and they can’t even gather themselves enough to shout an answer back to them because they can’t get enough air to  _ breathe, _ let alone antagonize their coworkers. 

When she finally starts to settle down, reality starts to creep. How this is gonna be one hell of a report to Command when they get back to the ship- assuming their coworkers don’t all just burst into flame as soon as they all face each other tomorrow, how her clothes are still sopping wet on the floor nextdoor, and she didn’t see a shower in any of these rooms but she is  _ filthy _ and they really do need to clean up and also maybe burn the sheets so they don’t have to explain to their new allies what the hell the stains are, and-

Chris’s lips brush her jaw from where they’re plastered together. Phil tilts his head where it was laid on her chest starts softly mouthing at her breast. Someone’s hand leisurely slides up her thigh. The fire that had momentarily been quelled quietly begins to rise again. She’s wet still, and only getting more so with every touch. 

She looks to Chris; sees nothing but naked affection and even a bit of mischief in his eyes. She looks to Phil; sees nothing but warmth and a lazy grin. Watches as he moves over her to kiss Chris, feels a tremble in her own frame as Chris shivers.

_ ‘Hell’,  _ she moves to straddle Phil.  _ ‘Those are problems for Morning Us’.  _ Chris follows her up, plasters himself to her back, kisses behind her ear. 

‘ _ We have a few more hours’ _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. The 20k beast I had on the back burner for that four month long hiatus. And now I've been persuaded to do kinktober. Heaven Fucking Help Me. Leave a kudos if you liked, or a comment if you really liked (or if you want to scream at me)

**Author's Note:**

> However will our heroes prevail in the face of miscommunication? Tune in whenever I get part two up! Leave a kudos if you liked, or a comment if you wanna scream @me for taking so long to post lmao. Hope you enjoyed!


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